… but I'd still be friends with me.

The Great Outdoors?

I was forced outside by my mother, sure, but if left to my own devices, I would have sat around and watched TV or played videogames or read books ALL. DAY. LONG.

I played sports (poorly) through grade school, but inside, I was a tried-and-true indoorswoman.

So why is it that, now, I’m getting the urge to be outdoors? Don’t get me wrong – as I’m sure you’ve read by now, I have my issues with being active, and I will gladly park my ass any time I’m able – but still…

I went to REI today to look at GPS watches (if anyone has any suggestions for me, I’ll take them, because REI staff members were not that knowledgeable!) and found myself looking longingly at …

Hiking backpacks.

Hiking, biking, camping, you name it – I was salivating like a Pavlovian test dog.

And I thought, “WHERE THE FUCK IS THIS COMING FROM?” and I tried to think of sitting on my couch in order to calm down.

Granted, this could be just another distraction pipe dream; you know, being the sporty type to detract from real problems: Bills aren’t paid? Go hike Mt. Kilimanjaro! Life is shitty? Do yoga in the hills overlooking the sunset! Dead-ending in love or career? Go camping, eat chicken stir fry from a bag that looks like it should be used for granola, and then wipe your ass with leaves. Everything will be fine!

Still, the urge seemed strange, but also strangely comforting – it was the first time in a long time I thought about doing something not influenced by someone else’s love of it. I’ll probably lose the desire just as quickly, but it isn’t a moment I’ll forget any time soon.

It’s like St. Augustine once said, “Do you wish to be great? Then begin by being little.” So while I won’t be planning a hike to Kilimanjaro next week, I think this is a sign that I’m capable of more.